Répurgateurs

[Ecthelion]

La bombe est constituée d'un peu de poudre noire mélangée avec du magnésium. La poudre explose, brule le magnésium, produisant le flash.

La bombe est petite, elle ne sert qu'a faire bruler le magnésium. Donc pas de danger.

Ecthelion

[Ecthelion]

Deux personnes m'ont demandé ce que font les gardes pendant que l'Ordre attaque. Voici de quoi vous satisfaire.

Trail of Blood, continued

The explosions also warned the guards that something was not right. Within seconds, one of the sentries saw the burning remains of the door that Tar Narden had blown up, and winded his horn, sounding the alarm.

The eight men that were off-duty tumbled out of their cots, scrambling to get their armor on and weapons in hand. The remaining men on the walls hurried down the stairs, leaving the men in the towers alone to keep watch.

In two minutes time, fourteen guards were running towards the house, weapons drawn. Unfortunately, they were heading straight towards Melkar’s hiding place.

Melkar smiled as the men rushed his way. Silently, he aimed the leader’s head and gently pulled the trigger.

The well-oiled parts of his crossbow barely made any noise, and, even though the cord did make an audible snap as it went taught, the mercenaries never heard the quarrel coming.

The leading man fell to the earth, the quarrel firmly planted in his throat. Then another man fell screaming, a bolt in his thigh, then another struck in the gut. The rest paused for a few seconds, wondering what to do.

Soon, some of them broke ranks to find cover behind the trees, quickly followed by the rest. The second in command began yelling at them to advance, which they did, keeping behind cover as much as possible.

You want to try it that way? Melkar silently asked the men. Well, it will not work!

Two more men fell, killed by a single shot through the head each, but now, the crossbow began creaking as wood rubbed wood and metal ground metal. The three guards armed with bows shot back blindly, wasting their shot. They also gave Melkar stationary targets.

One of them took a round through the chest and let out a cry of pain, grasping at the quarrel deeply stuck in his lung.

The other mercenaries, armed with spears and halberds, crept ever closer to the tree where Melkar was perched.

Now it starts to get hairy, he thought as he picked an explosive quarrel from a small quiver. Hope you enjoy this one boys!

The bolt struck the man in the sternum, plunging into his flesh. As it did so, a small piece of flint attached to the shaft was pushed towards another one. As they stuck each other, they caused a spark that ignited the explosive packet attached an inch from the tip of the quarrel.

The blast had a gruesome effect on the man, nearly tearing him in two. It also scared the other soldiers; nobody wanted to finish like the luckless man on the ground.

“Hey! I can see the piece of scum!” shouted one of the archers. “Over there! In that tree!”

Two arrows hit the tree, only feet away from where he stood. They had indeed spotted him.

Time to fix that, he thought.

The next two bolts took the archers down, but there were still five guards left, and they could probably reach him with their spears. Fighting them from atop the tree didn’t seem like a smart thing to do.

Time to live dangerously!

Résumé en français: Les gardes accourent (la méthode d'infiltration de Tar narden est très dicrète ), et se font siper par Melkar. À la fin, Melkar est un peu coincé dans son arbre, on verra se qui va lui arriver.

J'espère que vous allez aimer.

Ecthelion.

Modifié le 31 août 2005 par Ecthelion

[Wilheim Von Carstein]

Salut à toi,

au niveau forme, un petit truc qui me chifonne :

The second in command began yelling at them to advance, which they did

Ne faudrait-il pas plutôt dire "what they did"? which nécessite un antécédant bien défini, non?

sinon, une petite faute de frappe

They ad indeed spotted him

le h

Pour l'instant, c'est la partie "tir au pigeon" de la contre-attaque. Melkar est vraiment un sniper de premier ordre : ça ne doit pas être super facile de recharger une arbalète quand on est coincé dans un arbre!

Mais bon, toutes les bonnes choses ont une fin et il va sans doute galérer un peu pour les 5 derniers (ce qui est une très bonne chose... parce que à 1 contre 14, quand même, on est en droit d'espérer qu'il aura du mal )

Donc une partie agréable à lire, pas franchement flippante dans le sens où le héros ne courre quasiment aucun risque et se contente de flinguer à tour de bras (j'adore tes descriptions très rablésiennes des blessures ), mais la suite sera sans doute beaucoup plus palpitante.

A+

[Ecthelion]

Je sais que sàest facile, ils lui foncent dedans. Oui il recharge vite, plus tard je vais préciser qu'il s'agit d'une "arbalette à pompes", ce qui fait qu'il à une cadense de tir beacoup plus rapide.

Oui, il risque bien d'avoir mal, il n'est pas un expert de càc...

Ecthlion

[Iliaron]

Et bien, très intéressant tout ça: de jolis descriptions de snipe, avec des réactions de gardes qui apparaissent bonnes.

Seul petite interrogation: au tout début, très rapidement 3 tirs touchent des cibles, je me demande si c'est lui qui a tiré les trois, car dans ce cas là il serait très, très rapide .

Sinon vivement la suite (sigh, je prépare l'ode funèbre)

Iliaron

[Ecthelion]

Désolé d'avoir tardé pour mon poste, je vous l'envoie.

Trail of Blood, continued

Igenham and his group were clearing the rooms on the second floor, but they had yet to meet any serious resistance. That made him very nervous; the hallway was rather narrow and if someone came out with a bow, they would all be surely slaughtered.

“So far nothing!” Dommus called from the doorway of the eighth room they had searched. “Nothing since those two we killed on the stairs. Does anyone else feel like we are walking into the biggest ambush the world has ever known?”

“They would have sprung the trap sooner,” Ancalima said, hoping it was true. “We are sitting ducks in this corridor, and have been so from the second we set foot in it!”

The rooms were not in use, apparently it was too late for any clients to be there, and the manager obviously had no use for slaves sleeping in good beds if they weren’t going to generate any profit.

“I’m guessing that the slaves are locked in one of the bigger rooms when they aren’t doing business,” said Igenham. “They have got to be here somewhere.”

They had gotten to the end of the hallway, and only had one last room to inspect. This one had a large chain locking it.

“This is it!” he shouted. “They have got to be behind this door! Ancalima, can we blow the lock without making to much noise?”

“No problem. It will be easy,” she answered.

“One other thing; it might be best if you were the first person they saw. Better than Dommus or I in any case,” he added with a grin, knowing that she would not scare them as much as either of them would.

Ancalima nodded and pulled a bag of black powder from her purse, carefully pouring it into the lock. Next, she placed a wick in it, stood back and lit it.

The three of them ducked into the closest room and waited for the explosion.

The blast ripped the padlock apart and charred the door a little, but didn’t do much else in the way of damage.

Igenham took the chain off and opened the door for Ancalima, and winked at her as she entered the room. He was rewarded with a sweet little smile, before she got back to business.

Ancalima looked about and raised her hand and conjured a small orb of soft light. In the corner of the room she saw several huddled figures, who hid from the light as best they could, fearing that the slavers might have returned.

“Don’t worry,” Ancalima told them gently, reaching out with her hand. “We are not here to hurt you. We want to help.”

“Who are you?” asked a scared voice.

“We are your freedom.”

En gros, Igenham et les autres sont arrivés à l'endroit où les esclaves sont enfermés. Tout le monde estassez nerveux à cause du manque de résistance.

Tar Narden was also feeling uneasy. So far they had only found two servants who had thrown themselves to the ground and sued for mercy.

They had cleared almost every room on the first floor, only a couple remained.

“Either they have deserted the place, or we are walking into one great big trap!” whispered Caleth. “Why aren’t they here?”

“I don’t know,” answered Tar Narden. “I am starting to think that they cleared out after Onima got in…”

“Last room,” said Daïmnia. “Will you do the honors, Caleth?”

He nodded, and then kicked the door in and rushed inside, the others right on his heels.

They were in a large room strewn with soft cushions and pillows and set with low tables. A bar was against the wall to their left, stocked with vast amounts of wine and liquors.

There were also three cultists standing guard before a door.

“Come not forwards!” one of them said. “You shall not trouble the enfant!”

“And who are you to worry about a child’s sleep?” Caleth barked back. “Come forwards and meet your doom!”

They all laughed, an eerie and unearthly laugh. “There is much about the great mystery of Chaos that you do not know, imprudent one. We shall enjoy sending your souls to our Lord, so that he can reshape you to fit his designs.”

One of them raised his arms, and a sword lifted itself from a small pile in front of him, and flew at Caleth.

The warrior just had time to knock the sword away before it ran him through. This is the one who killed Onima! he thought. He can levitate objects!

Daïmnia rushed past him and struck at one of the men defending the sorcerer, but the man blocked the blow and struck her with his fist, knocking her to the ground.

Caleth, dodged two more flying swords and struck at the man, only to be blocked by two more swords. The man smiled at him, then another sword attacked him. He parried it, but another one struck him.

Soon it was all Caleth could do just to parry the blows. All his skill was called upon, but still he had to back away from the rain of blades that hammered him.

Tar Narden incinerated the man standing over Daïmnia, allowing her to get to her feet before the second one split her in two with his huge axe. Her two katanas flashed and the man fell headless, like a tree felled by the wind.

But more swords attacked them. Daïmnia had but little trouble parrying the three swords striking her, but Tar Narden was backed to the wall, doing his best to dodge the blows.

Caleth realized that the swords attacking him had lost some of their skill. The more swords he controls, the harder it is for him to guide them precisely! Now is my chance.

With a cry he charged past the hovering swords, two of them cutting him on the arm and leg, but he was now close enough to strike the sorcerer.

The halberd ran the man through, nailing him to the wall. As soon as it happened, the swords clattered to the ground, leaving the three completely out of breath.

Caleth wasn’t hurt badly; the cuts were shallow, but Tar Narden had taken a sword in the knee and was bleeding badly.

”Sorry Tar Narden,” Caleth said as he knelt next to him. “This is going to hurt. Daïmnia, hold his hands so he will not accidentally cast a spell.”

He grasped the sword tightly and pulled it out of the man’s knee, drawing a loud cry from the older man. As fast as he could, Caleth traced a rune on the wound then placed his hand on it.

The wound took a while to heal, so deep and damaging it had been, but when he removed his hand from the man’s knee, the gaping wound was gone.

“It’s rather sore, but I think I will survive,” Tar Narden said. “But next time you have to save my life, please, just let me die. That hurt!”

“You poor baby,” Daïmnia said.

“Let’s just see what is behind that door,” he said. “And don’t call me a baby!” he added.

Tar Narden et son groupe confronte trois cultiste qui protègent un "enfant". Un des hommes est capable de léviter des objest (des épées, on comprend comment Onima est morte). Un combat s'en suit, et finit par la mort des cultistes.

Au programe du prochain post: Melkar contre les 5 mercenaires t un peu plus avec Tar Narden.

Ça devrait être prêt demain.

Ecthelion

Modifié le 3 septembre 2005 par Ecthelion

[Iliaron]

Dose anyone

does

You pour baby,” Daïmnia said.

poor

Sinon l'action est vraiment prenante, et l'on sent aussi qu'ils se précipitent dans un piège.

Le combat est très bien décrit, et au final le cultiste meurt par pêché d'orgueil, ce qui est très bien rendu.

Iliaron, suite

[Ecthelion]

Merci d'avoir lu!

Je crains que tout le monde sent le piège venir. Dommage ça gache un peu la surprise. Mais bon, on ne va se pleindre pour ça...

La suite vous arriveras demain dans la soirée (on doit travailler dans le jardin. ).

Ecthelion.

[Wilheim Von Carstein]

salut à toi,

bon au niveau forme, une petite chose ou deux :

The rooms were not in use, apparently it was to late for any clients to be there

too... je remarque que c'est une faute qui revient souvent

The warrior just had time to knock the sword away before it ran him through

before it ran through him, plutôt, non?

That hurt!

hurts

Sinon, un passage de suspens très bien mené, ou les persos commencent à douter sérieusement. Le combat contre le magos et ses potes est prenant et on attend de savoir ce qu'est cet enfant...

La suite!

A+

[Ecthelion]

before it ran through him, plutôt, non?

Non, il s'agit d'une forme un peu ancienne, mais plus distinguée.

hurts

Si on prenait hurts, ça veut dir que ça fait mal maintenant, Tar Narden exprime le fait que

ça a fait mal dans le passé.

Merci d'avoit lu et relevé les fautes (too, mais ç me ). La suite sera prête cet aprem.

Ecthelion

[Ecthelion]

Pardon d'avoir tardé avec le poste . Je vous envoie la fin de la première partie (c'est pas trop tôt ).

Trail of blood, FINISHED!

Melkar fell from the tree, landing two meters lower, in front of the charging men, startling them. But not enough to make them stop.

Too bad, he thought, pulling two long-barreled pistols from his belt. Guess I will need to blow your brains out. He drew a careful bead on the closest mercenary. Pity.

The gunshot pierced the silence as a flame and bullet leapt from the gun’s muzzle. The man fell dead, a small hole in the centre of his forehead.

He didn’t have time to aim with his left hand. Instead, he fired from the hip, shooting a second man through the belly, wounding him fatally.

One of the mercenaries jabbed at him with his spear, trying to stick him in the gut, but Melkar grasped the shaft, twisting it out of the man’s hands.

He would never know why he did what he did next; he just knew that he had to do it. Twisting around, he rammed the spear into the mercenary’s chest.

The man’s eyes went wide as he screamed in pain, but Melkar didn’t seem to notice. He held the dieing man in front of him, warding off the blows that were aimed at him, then pushed forwards, knocking two men over.

He ducked a blow that he hadn’t seen. Pulling his axe out of his belt he swung backwards, catching the man in the side. He twisted around and struck the man on the head, knocking him out.

The last two men tried to rise, but Melkar was faster than them, killing them both before they had a chance to hurt him.

Panting, Melkar collapsed and began shaking, fighting the urge to vomit. He had come very close to death, yet its finger had only brushed him as it had eight years before. And as before, luck had saved him.

Luck, thought rising to his knees. It is not luck, something more. A gift and a curse, the gift of foresight…

That was what had saved him from the Beastmen, but he had no control over it. As if it were a Talisman that only is activated when needed. Were I able to control it, Onima needn’t have died.

Gathering his wits, he collected his weapons and made his way to the entrance, leaving only dead and dying men behind him. Death may have spared me, but only so I would become its tool. It is a curse.

Melkar tue les cinq mercenaires encore en vie grâce à des prémonitions. C'est comme ça qu'il à survécu quand sa famille a été tuée par les hommes bêtes.

Tar Narden led his men down a winding stone staircase that took them into an old cellar. They stopped in horror as their eyes beheld what lay inside.

The cellar had been desecrated with evil runes, drawn in shimmering blue and purple ink, describing things that no mortal should ever know. A small stone basin stood in the centre of the room, unearthly flames rising from within it.

Last of all, chained to the wall, was a creature of nightmares, the very thing that created them. The abomination was an unrecognizable mass of mutations, so it was impossible to tell what it had been. Three gaping maws protruded from its body, lined with frightful fangs. Its slug-like body had several spiked protrusions that would propel it across the ground and shred anything that got in its way.

“A enfant indeed, born from the shaping will of Chaos itself,” said a sickly Tar Narden. “We will burn this place now! Pour blessed oil over every stone and beam. Only fire will purify this womb of evil.”

They did what he told them to do, Caleth pausing to trace a rune on his blade, and with a disgusted look on his face walked up to the thing to do what he must.

Tar Narden et son groupe découvrent un enfant du chaos dans une cave. Il décide de brûler la maison.

Igenham stared at the burning building. The slaves had been freed, the servants evacuated, and enough money found to get them all home.

She died because she saw it, he thought. She had to die because of that.

Ancalima came up behind him and laid a hand on his shoulder. “What is troubling you? We solved the murder, freed the slaves and punished the ones that were responsible. It is all over now, and Onima can rest in peace.”

“No,” he answered. “We have only diminished them. They fled this place, leaving only a few, hoping we would not come back. They are still out there. They failed to bring that thing to maturity, but what more weapons do they posses? We cannot understand them.” His head dropped. And a tear rolled down his right cheek.

Without knowing why, she took him in her arms and held him to her, comforting him.

“I feel impotent, as if I were trying to hold the tide back with my bare hands, knowing that if I fail, everyone else in the world will drown.” With that he began to weep.

Ancalima looked at the man, one of those that had rescued her many years before. He had fought for ten years, ever since he was twelve years of age, seeing things that no man should ever have to witness. He had killed, showing no remorse, as if he were a machine. Yet here he was, crying like a child in his mother’s arms.

Roughly, she forced him to look at her. “Igenham, listen to me! You are not impotent! You just stopped the cult from doing something horrible to Marienburg. We will stop them again and again if need be, but we need you to be strong for us all. We need you!”

He stood, wiping the tears from his eyes. “Forgive me, Ancalima. That was a shameful thing for me to do, but I had to. Thank you.”

“Do not feel shamed, it shows you still have a heart. It might be what will save you. Come we need to go back.”

They walked a way from the fire, Ancalima’s comforting arm still around him.

Igenham découvre que les cultistes ont évacué les lieux. Il déprime un peu et Ancalima le réconforte (pas de sous-entendus!)

In a long, narrow crypt, a new tomb had been erected. The symbol of the Order had been carved onto it, along with an eye whose pupil was a tong of flame.

Here lies Maria Helgava,

Invisible in life,

Invisible now in death.

She chose to be called Onima.

L'épitaphe d'Onima.

Je commence la suite demain. Elle s'appelle Hunted.

À plus.

Ecthelion

Modifié le 4 septembre 2005 par Ecthelion

[Ecthelion]

Por ceux qui ont fini cette partie, pourriez-vous me donner un commentaire générale avant que je continue à poster la 2ème partie?

Merci.

Ecthelion

[Fourberass]

Salut !

Désolé de ne pas avoir répondu plus tôt (quelle impolitesse de ma part ...), mais entre la rentrée, lecture, le dessin pour le concour, l'ecriture, sa femme, le sport....

C'est dur de s'y retrouver !!!

Je redécouvre donc ce texte avec plaisir, l'histoire à bien avancée depuis la dernière fois. C'est vraiment trés bon: le texte est fluide, même pour moi qui ait un anglais déficient ...L'action est présente et bien distillé. J'ai bien aimé le combat de la dernière partie contre les mercenaires et les cultistes (j'aime beaucoup la réplique: Does anyone else feel like we are walking into the biggest ambush the world has ever known?”. Vraiment excellent !!!)

Ta description de l'enfant du chaos est aussi plus que parlante !!!

Tous ça pour dire que je suis fan et que j'ai hâte de lier la suite (avec asssiduité cette fois, c'est promis !!!)

A++

[Ecthelion]

Merci beaucoup Fourberass!

Comme moi je suis toujours en vacances, j'ai tout le temps d'écrire et lire le travail des autres, alors compte aussi sur moi pour lire ton texte!

Content que tu veille la suite, elle arrive cet aprem.

Ecthelion

[Ecthelion]

Bon, j'envois le premier bout de la deuième partie.

Hunted

The target walked down the crowded streets, unaware that he was being followed, stalked was more appropriate, by a small hooded figure.

He was a very fat man, dressed in expensive clothes and using an expensive perfume to hide the foul stench of his sweaty body. And sweat he did, whether it was hot or cold, whether he was moving or not. Were it not for his human face and body, he could have been at home with a family of toads.

The man looked about, admiring the stalls of the merchants selling jewelry, not noticing that his shadow back off, fearing that the numerous guards around the stalls might notice it.

The man stopped at one of the trader’s stall and started talking to him. Half an hour later, he paid the merchant, picked up a ring and walked away, his shadow still in tow.

Now it was time, the hooded figure walked up to the man, hand clasped around the hilt of a small dagger. It did not draw it, so that no light would reflect off of it, revealing itself to those around it. The man stopped and looked at a stall selling soaps and perfumes, and that was all that it needed.

The dagger came out as it bumped into the man, and with amazing dexterity, cut the man’s purse from his belt without him noticing. Then the figure backed away, mimicking fear and shame at having gotten in the way of a better, and never got a second glance from the nobleman.

Yes! Third one this day, it thought. To bad he bought that ring, he must have paid fifty crowns for it! Well, this will be enough for four or five days…

It walked down a narrow street, hiding the purse in the folds of its tunic.

As it rounded the corner, a small gang of young boys blocked its way. The oldest one shoved it to the ground and placed his foot on its stomach.

“Well, Misha,” he said in a mocking voice. “Are you going to pay for protection, or what? We are tired of you not paying up when the time comes.”

“I don’t need any of you to protect me,” was the contentious answer. “As if I you could protect anything. Now, get your foot off of me!”

“Why should I take orders from a girl?” he laughed.

“Because,” she struck his in the knee with the hilt of her dagger, dropping him to the ground with a shriek, “Girls get nasty when they are not obeyed.”

She rolled to the side, and, before the other boys could react, was up, a second dagger in her left hand. “Come get your money if you want it, scum!”

As they didn’t do anything, she spat at them. “Yeah, you would protect me, only so I would pay in trade. Well, I will die before that happens!”

And she walked right past them, elbowing one out the way hard.

“Don’t bother me again! Or it will be painful!”

On prend connaissamce de Misha, une petite fille (environ 16 ans) qui vit dans la rue. Elle fait du pick-pocket, et est dure comme de l'acier. Vous direz: "Rien à voir avec se qui précédait", mais attendez un peu...

Misha walked to the old, run-down house she lived in. Before entering, she was careful to make sure that nobody was following her. Satisfied, she ducked behind a pile of rotting wood and crawled through a small hole in the wall.

She stood up at the foot of an old staircase that led up to the room were she slept. Tossing the cut purses on a table, she headed to the bedroom to change into some clean clothes and wash herself.

It was a different person that emerged from the room later; her straw-colored hair was rather short, the better to pass for a boy, but now it was clean and combed, the grimy rags she had been wearing, were exchanged for a simple green dress and her face and body washed. She was actually rather pretty when she took care of her looks, but since she was an orphan and homeless, it was better not to attract men’s eyes. So whenever she left her home to find money, she dirtied herself and dressed poorly, and so far, it had worked remarkably well.

She sat down to count her day’s earnings.

Not bad, she thought. Just over sixty crowns. Well, that should last us three days, and we might be able to go to the market and buy something nice.

It was then that Sonia and Sophia, the two twins that lived with her came inside from their day of begging.

“What a miserable day!” exclaimed Sonia. “We spent all day next to some idiot backer’s stall, mewing like famished kittens, and he didn’t even offer us any bread!”

“So we liberated some from his stall,” continued Sophia. “We also got a sausage from a kind butcher. We bought some butter and preserves from other merchants, so we have today’s supper, but no extra gold to add to the treasury.”

“How did Stephan do?” asked Misha. Stephan was the twin’s elder brother, the one who had taken Misha under his wing for his young sisters’ sakes.

“He got chased by some guards near the end of the day, but got away with a whole leg of pork…” began Sophia

“…So we will have some good meat tomorrow night!” finished Sonia.

“Well, I have sixty crowns to spend, how about we go to market tomorrow and play noblewomen, I’m sure that Stephan will want to get something as well.”

The twins couldn’t hide their delight at the idea.

On voit où, et avec qui, Misha habite. Toute la "famille" se prépare à aller au marché le landemain.

Le but du début, était de faire croire à un assassinat par le cult de Tzeentch, est-ce réussit? Je sais que c'est un peu rien à avoir avec Igenham et Cie, mais attendez la fin de cette histoire.

Dites-moi ce que vous en penser svp.

Ecthelion

Modifié le 7 septembre 2005 par Ecthelion

[Wilheim Von Carstein]

Salut à toi,

désolé pour le retard, les cours ayant repris, j'ai moins de temps pour suivre tes excellents écrits.

Quelques remarques de forme sur la fin de Trail of Blood

He held the dieing man in front of him, warding off the blows that were aimed at him

dying

EDIT : je l'ai retrouvée :

“A enfant indeed, born from the shaping will of Chaos itself

Sinon, commentaire général : c'est très bon. L'action, le sentimental et le côté intrigue policière sont bien dosés et le mélange donne de très bons résultats.

Mention spéciale pour la description de l'enfant du chaos et l'expression Only fire will purify this womb of evil, particulièrement bien trouvée

Pour le début de Hunted, je n'ai pas relevé de fautes mais je suis passé assez vite. Le début laisse en effet présager du pire pour le gros noble. Au niveau "réalisme" par contre, tes personnages ont des gouts de luxe, parce que que claquer 60 couronnes d'or en 4 jours à 4... ("we go to market tomorrow and play noblewomen") : on sent une certaine insouciance de leur part... je ne sais pas si c'est voulu.

En tout cas, cela appelle une suite

A+

Modifié le 8 septembre 2005 par Wilheim Von Carstein

[Ecthelion]

Oui ,ils sont plutôt insouciants. Ils mènent une vie d'aventure, ils peuvent seprocurer autant d'or qu'ils veulent, ils sont leurs propres maîtres... Pour eux, c'est la vie de rèves!

Bien enttendu, cette vie va être brisée...

D'accord, 60 couranes en quatre jours, c'est beacoup, je vais modifier cela.

Merci de tes conseilles!

Ecthelion

[Iliaron]

Bon, je n'ai aps lu Hunted, mais j'ai réussir à finir Trail of Blood.

Déjà, désolé du retard, mais avec la reprise des cours, mon temps libre a bien diminué )

Pour ta fin, je la trouve très réussi: les personnages vont au bout d'eux-même et prouvent ainsi leur véritable coeur. Melkar et sa maldiction, Igenham et, dirais-je, sa malédiction de diriger toujours un tel groupe...

Vraiment, ce finish est surprenant: l'action diminue un pue, pour faire place à de l'émotion, mais pas à l'eau de rose. Splendide donc!

Iliaron, qu'arrive aps à lire autant qu'il le voudrait

[Ecthelion]

Bonjour.

Tout d'abord, excuser moi pour le retard que j'ais pris dans mes postes. Pour me faire pardonner, je vous envoie une belle dose.

Hunted, continued

The next day, they awoke a little before dawn so that they could get ready for the day. The twins had to wash up and be dressed, something that was a small victory if Misha could get it done. The Twins hated washing up and fidgeted constantly, so that she almost had to wrestle them into their dresses.

The twins wore matching red dresses with a gold trim, things for which Misha and Stephan had paid a week’s worth of thieving. The only thing that would tell them apart were the small gold-chain necklaces; Sonia’s had a blue stone in it while Sophia’s had a green one.

Misha chose to wear her blue silk dress, the one that Stephan had stolen from Cathyen merchant for her. She also put a white shall over her head to hide her short hair.

The twins were already planning where they would spend their money, disagreeing more often than not. “First let’s go to the stalls where the sell candies!” said Sophia.

“Yes, but I want to see the jewelers first!”

“We did that last time!”

“No, last time we went to see the animal trainers first, like you wanted!”

And on and on it went, until Stephan came in and solved the problem by telling them that they would go to the smiths first, then go wherever they wanted, so long that Misha got to get some of the things she wished for, much to the twins’ dismay.

“Now, everybody put his cloak on and we will be off.”

The cloaks were dirty, tattered and torn, the better to pass unseen. They slipped out of their home and headed for the markets.

At the corner of an alley, Stephan checked that nobody was around then quickly pulled his cloak off telling the others to do so.

“Now remember,” he said. “We are the children of some minor noble, and we are off to the market to buy some things. Make sure we aren’t followed, and please don’t let your tongs wander, little ones,” he told the twins.

With that, they mingled with the crowds of people going to the market.

Tout le monde (Misha, les julelles et leur grand frère (des jumelles), Stephan) se préparent à aller au marché. Rien de spécial.

They all had a good time at the market, spending money and acting like they owned the world. Misha knew that their attitude was frivolous, but they enjoyed their carefree lives.

Let tomorrow bring what it will, we will just make do with what we can steal, she thought. I have lived like this for ten years, and I could live like this for another twenty!

They bought a new sword for Stephan at the smith’s shop. While he was haggling with the merchant, Misha noticed a set of throwing knives with a holder that one could attach to his belt. They left the smith’s, their purses much lighter.

Candy had to be bought for the twins and every stall inspected to satisfy their curiosity. They spent an hour looking at a man showing off several monkeys and finally had to be dragged away by the others. To console them, Misha bought them both red silk ribbons to tie their hair.

After the noon meal, the twins were much subdued, enough for Misha to be able to take them to the stalls selling books and scrolls.

She loved to look at the books and see the strange letters and runes, even though she couldn’t read them. It was something she regretted, but it came with the life she lived. She spent a minute admiring a stone tablet carved with dwarven runes, then turned to leave.

It was then that something made her stop.

Two men in black hooded cloaks were looking through a musty old book and talking excitedly. This didn’t go unnoticed by the merchant who walked up to them, apparently to ask them if they wanted to buy it.

The two men considered, than nodded. Intrigued, Misha drew closer and managed to catch what they were saying.

“It is an old tome. I have had it for several years…” he was saying.

“Enough of that!” one of the men interrupted rudely. “Tell us how much you want for it!”

“Well, I suppose I might let it go for three hundred crowns…” he considered, rising the price considerably out of anger at having been cut off.

“Well will take it!” the other one said, tossing three bags of gold onto the table to the merchant’s great surprise.

Why did he do that? thought Misha as the men walked off, the book hidden under their cloaks. That was at least three times what it was worth.

Misha considered it for a while, then smiled. Next time I see a black cloak, I’m going to follow it and pick it clean!

On est au marché. les petites s'amusent... Misha voit deux hommes de noir vétus et cpuchonés qui achètent à prix extavagant un vieux livre poussièreux. Misha se décide de le détrousser la prochaine fois qu'elle les véra.

The next day saw Misha hanging around the booksellers’ stalls, hoping that one or more of the cloaked figures would pass by. She waited there until noon, but they didn’t come.

Well, maybe they don’t come every day, she thought. I need to cut someone’s purse if I am going to bring some gold home today.

So, she went back to her normal way of life, but always keeping an eye on the lookout for the hooded men.

Nearly three weeks had past when she again saw three of them looking around the jewelers’ section of the market.

I thought that I was never going to see them again! Well, let’s go relieve them of some gold…

Sliding behind the men, she examined them, guessing which one would be the easiest to pluck. They stopped in front of a jeweler’s stall, one of them reaching for his belt.

When he did so, his cloak was pulled back, revealing a large purse hanging off his hip. Misha acted quickly.

Forcefully, she bumped into the merchant, knocking him into the cloaked man. As the two of them collided, she reached out and cut his purse.

Yes! she thought as she walked away, the pouch disappearing under her tunic. And it feels heavy too! We will be eating like kings for weeks!

With that, Misha hurried of to count her well “earned” wages.

Après trois semaines, Misha réussi à trouver les "Men in Black" et à leur faucher un sac d'or...

“Somebody just cut my purse!”

“You should have been watching over it, idiot! You just lost two hundred crowns! We will be taking it from your flesh!”

“Not only money, the Icon was in it too.”

“You brainless git! If you don’t fix this problem by tomorrow night, you will be a dead man!”

“Yes sir!”

Quelq'un a perdu du fric et quelquechose d'autre, encore plus important... Et il va la récupérer...

L'histoire va commencer à décoller maintenant. Je pense que vous avez compris qui sont les hommes de noir vêtus et que vous immaginez la suite. Eh bien, faut que je l'écrive .

Dites moi se que vous en penser.

Ecthelion

Modifié le 11 septembre 2005 par Ecthelion

[Wilheim Von Carstein]

Salut à toi,

niveau forme :

“Now, everybody put his cloak on and we will we off.”

put their cloak and we will be off

She loved to look at the books and see the strange letters and runes, even though she couldn’t reed them.

read

Sinon, au niveau fond, un petit moment de calme et de détente bien rendu. L'atmosphère du marché et les comportements des personnages sont très "vrais".

L'intrigue commence à se mettre en place, sur un coup de bol certes, mais c'est souvent le cas.

Suite!

A+

[Ecthelion]

Merci pour les corrections Wilheim.

Je sais, c'est un peu "Oh tien il y a...", mais j'espère que ce ne l'est quand même pas trop.

Autrement, la suite est en train de se faire, d'ici deux à trois jours ce sera fini et je pourrais poster une ou deux pages de texte.

Merci d'avoir lu.

Ecthelion.

[Fourberass]

Cho !!!

But it's wonderful !!! Bon je vais arreter là avant d'être ridicule. Donc tous se passe bien, l'histoire poursuit son petit bonhomme de chemin, et tu nous donnes envie de'n savoir toujours plus et de connaître la suite!!! Pour résumé: j'ai hâte !!!

Allez au boulot !!!

[Ecthelion]

Meci pour l'encouragement, Fourberass!

Allez au boulot !!!

Et toi? As-tu avancé avec ton récit?

Trève de bêtises, j'avancerais avec la suite dès que j'aurais fini de ranger ma chambre .

Ecthelion

[Ecthelion]

Je vous envoie encore un peu de la suite.

Hunted, continued

Two hundred crowns! Two hundred golden crowns!

Misha was seated in front of a table upon which sat twenty stacks of coins. The amount was the largest she had ever stolen at one time. It was more than she had ever hoped to gather.

I can’t wait to tell the others! We might even be able to move out of this old shack! All I have to do is pull this off two or three more times…

Stephan had promised them that if they managed to put a thousand crowns aside, he would look for a small house where they could all live together, pretending to live off some rich uncle’s generosity.

Being a cutpurse was something that neither Stephan of Misha wanted to give up, it was their way of life. But they would provide good education for Sonia and Sophia, with the money they stole.

She put the crowns into four bags, fifty coins into each, then lifted a loose floorboard and hid the bags under the dirt she and Stephan had placed there to hide their savings. After putting the floorboard back in place, she cut four new marks onto the doorframe.

Sixteen of them, she thought. We need twenty to get out. Six years of thieving and begging all summed up here… It has been a long time.

She then went back to the table to examine the last thing she had found in the bag.

It was a silver medallion, with an eye wreathed in flames etched onto it. As she held it up, she fancied that the flames were withering in the candlelight, the medallion growing warm.

Just a trick of the eye, she thought. Maybe Stephan or I could fence it. We might be able to get fifteen crowns for it.

She hung it on the bedpost and forgot about it.

Misha compte l'argent qu'elle a volé, et rève de ce qu'elle va faire avec le fric. Il y a aussi un petit médaillon en argent avec un oeil entouré de flammes, mais il ne s'agit que d'une babiole sans valeur...

Misha woke up during the night, thinking that it was dawn. A soft, purple, light had filled the room during her sleep, and yet, looking out the window, she saw that it was still very dark out.

What is it, she thought sleepily. It can’t be morning, not yet.

She climbed out of her bed, careful to make as little noise as possible so as not to wake the twins. Peering around the room, she saw that the light was coming from the foot of her bed.

Strange, she thought as she walked towards it. It looks like the medallion is giving off the light. But that can’t be right. Maybe I am asleep…

She heard something outside, as if some one were tapping on the old house’s wall. Walking to the window, she looked out on the street.

Three men in black robes were outside; one of them holding something that was also giving off purple light.

The men from the market! How did they find me?

She turned to see the medallion glow brighter. I must hide the light, she thought, and flung the bedclothes over it, muting the eerie light. I need to warn Stephan and the others.

She crept to Stephan’s room and woke him.

“What is the matter?” he asked

“The men I stole the money from today are outside. I think they came for the medallion I found in the purse.”

“Medallion?”

“No time to explain, we need to get out of here before…” she was interrupted by the sound of wood being flung aside.

“They found the way in! Wake the twins up and let’s get out of here!” he said, reaching for his sword.

Misha ran out of the room, grabbing her street-clothes on the way to the twins’ bed, and woke them up, hands over their mouths so that the wouldn’t cry out.

“Get out of bed! This is very important: do not complain and do exactly what Stephan and I say. You need to get your cloaks on now! Do not worry about anything else, we are leaving this place.”

The twins were too sleepy and confused to argue, they fell out of bed and flung. Misha pried the floorboard open and picked one bag out, putting everything back as it was.

Maybe we will come back latter, she told herself, hoping that it was true. Just as long as the men don’t find it…

She got dressed as fast as she could, simply putting on what was under hand, and tied her throwing knives in the small of her back, and was buckling on her boots when the house shook, a loud “boom” echoing through the night.

They are widening the hole! We don’t have much time!

Without thinking, she grabbed the medallion and stuffed it into her pocket.

Stephan walked in through the door. “We need to get out through the roof! You go first, Misha, and I will pass you the twins.”

She nodded, and placed a chair under the trapdoor. Climbing onto it, she undid the latch and hoisted herself onto the roof. The twins followed her soon after, and last of all Stephan.

Heavy footsteps thundered up the creaky stairs.

“We need to get out of here now!” he panted. “Over there,” he pointed at another patch of houses. “Then, we get away from here, fast!”

Misha est éveillée par une lueur violette qui emmane du médaillon. Puis elle voit et entend des hommes capuchonés dehors qui tente de rentrer dans la maison. Tout le mond s'enfuit par les toits.

“The Icon is in there, we have three men inside now.”

“You may just have saved your worthless hide, maggot! Kill anyone and anything in there!”

“As ordered!”

“There is nobody in here!” a voice called from inside.

“What?”

“Maybe you didn’t save yourself after all…”

“There!” another voice cried. “On the roofs!”

“Get them!”

Dialogue entre les méchants. À la fin, ils voient Misha et les autres sur les toits...

Voila, je vous laisse aggoniser sans suite pendant deux jours . Non, je vais me grouiller autant que possible, deux (max trois) jour et je poste, donc à vendredi ou samedi.

Ecthelion

Modifié le 15 septembre 2005 par Ecthelion

[Wilheim Von Carstein]

Salut à toi,

quelques petites fautes d'inattention :

pretending to live off some rich uncle’s generosity.

of

But they would provide good education for Sonia and Sophia, with the money the stole

they stole.

The twins followed her soon after, and last of all by Stephan

Soit She was followed...and then by...

Soit The twins followed...and last of all Stephan

non?

Sinon, le passage est intéressant. Les personnages prennent de la profondeur et l'action débute.

Un tout petit bémol cependant, les méchants prennent peut être un peu trop leur temps. Bien sûr, il y a une certaine tension mais je trouve personnellement que, avoir le temps de discuter un moment, de réveiller les jumelles, de les habiller, de récupérer quelques affaires et de prendre la tangente avant même que les méchants n'entrent réellement dans la maison... en plus, ils n'ont pas l'air de vouloir faire dans la dentelle...

Ca reste du détail bien sûr, mais je pense que tu pourrais rendre la scène encore plus prenante.

Pas de suite avant vendredi? dommage (d'un autre côté, je pourrai me concentrer sur le boulot sans remords )

A+